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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838334">An Enlightening Lunch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist'>Xenobotanist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, POV Tora Ziyal, Pining, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Crush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:53:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziyal, Garak, and Julian have lunch in the replimat. Ziyal notices a few things.<br/>No sexual content or innuendos</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elim Garak &amp; Tora Ziyal, Julian Bashir &amp; Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Enlightening Lunch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set not long after "Dr. Bashir, I Presume."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ziyal sat down and smoothed out her dress. She resisted patting at her hair, aware that she’d already spent 30 minutes in the mirror making sure it was situated just right. Elaborate but not overdone. Smooth, oiled, and braided with not a single strand out of place. But not overly intricate either, as if in preparation for a holiday. Her dress was the same. Enough frills to be just this side of casual, understated and classic but not plain. Thank goodness she had an eye for fashion and art, or else she would be an absolute wreck when preparing to have lunch with a tailor.</p><p>Said tailor returned from the replicator with his tray. “Good afternoon, my dear.” He set the food down and offered his palm. </p><p>Ziyal matched it, feeling little sparks in her hand at the contact. “Good afternoon, Mr. Garak. How are you doing today?”</p><p>He launched into a story about his latest commission, a Vedek who had given him measurements for a robe, cassock, and stole that did not match up, but the man refused to be measured in person. Ziyal tried listening attentively, but she found herself watching Garak’s facial expressions more than taking in the actual words. She loved how his eyes would widen theatrically and his hands would wave in exaggeration while he told a story. He’d put his whole body into the performance: head tilted to the side, brow ridges rising and falling, shoulders hunching or expanding as he gestured around the replimat to accompany his words. He would make a splendid actor or storyteller.</p><p>A face with such character was worthy of examination and admiration. She’d spent hours trying to capture it with charcoals and watercolors on her own one evening, and she still wasn’t satisfied that it had captured everything about his <em> essence</em>, but she kept it anyway, tucked away in a folder by her bed. When she was lonely, or missing her father, she pulled it out and imagined him there in the room with her, his voice melodiously weaving a tale that was 2 parts humor, 1 part intrigue, and 1 part a hint of something nefarious playing out behind the scenes.</p><p>Just as Garak described the Vedek complaining about his cassock falling scandalously short, he stopped, arms suspended, his eyes on something behind Ziyal. He dropped his hands and fussily rearranged a few things on the table before looking back up again with a confident smile firmly fixed in place. “Ah, Doctor! So glad you could join us. Come, enhance our meal.”</p><p>Dr. Bashir greeted him back and headed over to pick out his food from the replicator. Ziyal drooped a little, disappointed that she was going to have to share her special friend with someone else.  But she instantly felt ashamed. She’d been having lunch with the two of them for some time now, only to discover out that the Human she’d come to know was actually a Changeling. She felt she owed it to him to spend time with the <em> real </em> Julian now. So when he approached, she willingly scooted her chair aside to make room. Which was fortunate, because that also gave her an excuse to sit closer to Garak.</p><p>“Sorry I’m late,” the Human apologized. “You know how it is. It looks like you started without me. What have I missed?” He started shoveling food into his mouth, just like his copy had numerous times before.</p><p>“Oh, nothing exciting,” Garak replied. “Just another day creating garments for customers who have no concept of how much work actually goes into assembling ensembles <em> without </em> a replicator.”</p><p>“I don’t know how you do it,” Julian mumbled through a mouth full of food. “Your designs are fantastic. I could never make anything like that.”</p><p>Ziyal agreed. “I know, right?” She turned to the tailor. “Everything you create is so wonderful. Each item has its own unique flare, and when you sew something for one person in particular, you always know just how to make it fit them. Like that pantsuit for Major Kira. It complemented her skin tone, and accentuated her neckline, and it sat just right around her waist. She absolutely loved it. She told me she’s never owned anything so comfortable.”</p><p>Garak nodded graciously. “Thank you, my dear. I do try my best. I’m glad she approved.” He stabbed something on his fork and pointed at her. “You have quite the artistic flare yourself. Have you seen any of her work, Doctor?”</p><p>A flood of warmth flooded Ziyal at the compliment. Garak liked her art! She’d been so nervous about showing him, and not only had he admired her use of color and form at the time, but now he was telling others about it.</p><p>Julian dabbed at his mouth and swallowed. “Erm, no, not yet. But I’ve heard Kira speak highly of it. You paint and sketch, is that right?”</p><p>“Oh, a little of this and a little of that. I’m not very good.”</p><p>“Nonsense!” Garak exclaimed. “You capture the spirit <em> inside </em> an object and bring it out with nothing more than a few elegant swipes and flourishes.” He paused significantly, and both of his companions stopped to listen. “Bajor and even <em> Cardassia </em> need more people like you. Artists who are willing to look <em> beyond </em> the surface and see the true nature beneath. The true… beauty and wonder that resides in something.”</p><p>Ziyal felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. No one had ever said something so flattering about her work before. But it wasn’t just that. It was the conviction behind what Garak was saying. While not everything the tailor said was what it appeared to be, she could tell that this statement had been absolute truth. He might pretend to be aloof and jaded, but he had a softer side that peeked through every once in a while, and it was this part that Ziyal loved.</p><p>If only she could convince him to love her back.</p><p>Garak’s voice broke into her reverie. “Is everything alright, Ziyal? You’ve hardly touched your food.” He tsked. “While <em> you</em>, Doctor, are stuffing your mouth like an Andorian fangbeast after hibernation. I would assume you were making up for the dreadful rations we were given in the internment camp if it hadn’t been for the fact that I know you <em> always </em> eat this way.”</p><p>Before Ziyal could make an excuse for herself, Julian replied. “That slop could hardly be called food at all. And it was even worse in solitary confinement; some days they ‘forgot’ to feed me altogether. But I don’t know why I eat so fast, really. Just comes with the package, I guess.” He grimaced. The news of his genetic augmentation was still fresh around the station, and it was clear that he was uncomfortable with it. </p><p>“I don’t suppose you’re missing much anyway,” Garak responded morosely. “Replicated food does leave a lot to be desired.”</p><p>Inspiration struck Ziyal. “Why don’t I make you dinner some time? Major Kira and I are going planetside this week to visit the market, and we’re going to come back with all sorts of fruits and vegetables.” Garak blinked at her, then flicked his eyes to the Human at the table. Oh, shoot. She hadn’t realized that it was bad manners to invite him over right in front of their companion. “Um, you can come, too, Dr. Bashir. If you’re not too busy or anything.” <em> Please let him be busy. Maybe he’ll have a late shift at the infirmary, or a date. I wonder if Nerys could tell me when he works, so I can plan the dinner for then. </em>A night alone with Garak would be so much more special. Maybe she could show him more of her artwork.</p><p>Julian grinned kindly. “Why thank you, Ziyal. I haven’t had any real food since the senior officers night with Captain Sisko before I was taken. Maybe I could bring dessert. There <em> is </em> that new shop that opened up on the upper level of the promenade.” He smirked at Garak. “They have Delavian chocolate cake.”</p><p>Oh, that did sound delicious. And the doctor <em> was </em> a charming man. Attractive even. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if they both came over. But… she should probably invite the Major at that point. There’s no way Kira would approve of Ziyal being alone with two adult males.</p><p>Garak set down his tea. “I despair ever letting you know of my weakness, Doctor. How am I supposed to maintain this figure if you keep plying me with sweets?”</p><p>One side of Julian’s mouth turned up. “You could always come to the holosuites or racquetball court to exercise with me. I’ve offered before, and the invitation still stands.”</p><p>To Ziyal’s surprise, the tailor looked down almost bashfully and drummed his fingers on the table. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on your time with Mr. O’Brien.”</p><p>“It’s not an imposition. Besides, I don’t <em> always </em> go with him. Sometimes I’m by myself. And it’s not like that’s stopped you before. I <em> distinctly </em> remember you breaking into-” He broke off, seeming to suddenly remember they weren’t alone. “Ahem. You know what I’m talking about.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Doctor. I learned my lesson,” Garak said, not sounding the least bit repentant. The Cardassian leaned conspiratorially over toward Ziyal. “Don’t <em> ever </em> interrupt the dear doctor during a holosuite session. He just... might… shoot you.”</p><p>Ziyal gasped before she could stop herself, then laughed. He couldn’t be serious. It must be some sort of inside joke. She looked at the Human. His face had grown more solemn, although whether it was grim or put out she couldn’t say for certain. Her laughter died away. </p><p>Julian opened his mouth, but he was interrupted by a chirp from his uniform.</p><p>
  <em> &lt;Jabara to Bashir. We have an emergency in the infirmary.&gt; </em>
</p><p>“I’ll be right there,” he replied. “I’m sorry you two, but I guess I’ll have to cut this short.” He sighed, then frowned at Garak  in obvious regret. “I was really looking forward to spending some time with you, seeing as we haven’t had much of a chance since we got back from the camp. I feel like we have some catching up to do.” </p><p>“Unquestionably,” Garak acknowledged. “But then, don’t we always?”</p><p>They stared at each other across the table, eyes locked in silence, both leaning forward as if they were on the verge of saying something more. Ziyal’s stomach clenched and her chest fluttered. There was so much <em> something </em> passing between Garak and Julian that she could almost palpably feel it in the air. She froze in place, glancing back and forth between the pair, afraid to break the tension.</p><p>But then the Human cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I, ah, better be getting back to work.” He reached out impulsively and laid his hand over Garak’s. “I’ve missed our lunches together,” he said fervently with a little squeeze. The tailor looked down at their hands as if a bar of latinum had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. But then Julian pulled away and stood up to excuse himself.</p><p>Just as he passed, Garak jerked his hand out and grabbed the doctor’s arm. “I do hope we can reschedule,” he said, his voice casual but shoulders tight as if in preparation for rejection. </p><p>Julian stopped. A dozen emotions seemed to flicker across his face before a small smile appeared. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll stop by later, and we can talk about it. If that works for you?”</p><p>Garak glowed. “As always, I’m at your disposal, my dear doctor.” It was practically a purr.</p><p>“I’ll see you later then.” He nodded at the tailor, then Ziyal. “Thank you for the dinner invitation, Ziyal. I’m looking forward to it.”</p><p>Ziyal nodded back distractedly. Her palms were sweating, and she wiped them on her dress under the table before remembering that she had a napkin. Her whole body was thrumming from the tension that had passed between the two men. She felt like an intruder, as if she’d witnessed something that should have occurred in private. Flustered, she took a hurried bite of stew and almost choked when she swallowed without chewing the vegetables first. She looked up guiltily, ready for a despairing remark from Garak, but he was watching Julian walk away with a distant, yearning expression on his face. </p><p>When he caught her staring, he flashed a vague smile and unnecessarily adjusted the napkin hanging from his collar. But it was a mask that faced her this time, not genuine affection. “So. What would you like to talk about now?”</p><p>“How about Dr. Bashir?” It just sort of popped out of her mouth, and Ziyal instantly regretted it.</p><p>“What about him?” Garak took a measured bite of bread and kept his gaze averted.</p><p>“Are you <em> dating </em>him?” It was a terribly forward question, but jealousy loosened her tongue.</p><p>The tailor set his food down and scrutinized her. “Whyever would you say that?”</p><p>Ziyal balked. “Well… all <em> that</em>.”</p><p>Garak’s eyes narrowed. “All <em> what</em>?”</p><p>“That- that flirting. I’ve never seen you talk to anyone like that before.” <em> Especially not me. </em></p><p>Garak waved a hand dismissively. “That wasn’t flirting, my dear. You know how Cardassians are. We <em> bicker. </em> We <em> discourse</em>. We… agitate.”</p><p>Which <em> also </em> definitely wasn’t something he’d done with her. But with Dr. Bashir… “Isn’t that what your lunches normally are, when I’m not here? Major Kira says all the two of you ever do is argue.” Prophets, how could she have been so blind?</p><p>“That’s different. He’s a Human. They use… other methods.”</p><p>“You mean like just a minute ago? Touching, and suggesting things without saying them? Those <em> looks?” </em></p><p>Garak raised his chin haughtily. He appeared to be trying to pass for condescending, but Ziyal thought she could sense defensiveness. “Really. You have such a fanciful imagination. There’s nothing going on between me and the doctor.”</p><p>Even if there was, would he admit it? Probably not. Ziyal was hurt, but part of her felt powerful, too. She had something on Garak. A man many considered enigmatic and even outright dangerous, if you were to believe the rumors (or Nerys). A new thrill went through her, different from the type she’d experience earlier. Who else knew about them? Was it just her? Wouldn’t it be funny if no one else on the entire station knew something was going on between the Chief Medical Officer and the Cardassian Spy? </p><p>Ziyal plastered a fake smile across her face. “If you say so, Garak.” She was going to have to find a way to get Julian alone and grill him. Or… interrogate him. Maybe she could enlist Jake, pretend they were interviewing him for an article. She started scheming. “Let’s talk about that dinner. What would you like me to pick up from Bajor? What do you think Dr. Bashir would like?”</p><p> </p>
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